On Medals and War
by AlabamaEsme
Summary: This is my 1st time doing a APH fanfic... To put it simply, America is reflecting on his military past when he visits Arlington. Give me your honest opinions please- if people like it, I'll make it longer. Inspired by "Superman" by Five For Fighting.
1. A quick note

A note about what you are about to read:

I wrote this thing at midnight. I have no idea where I was going with it- I literally just typed exactly what I was seeing in my mind and thinking. I'm really sorry if it is the worst thing you've ever read. I'm actually thinking I should take it down….

-Ashley


	2. Chapter 1

I love.

I cry.

I miss the people of my past.

I fight.

I bleed.

I struggle with problems, but I hide them.

The man who raised me instilled a strong sense of determination, but he also reminded me that in the end, I was simply a human. No matter what I tried, I would never be able to save everyone from pain. I could not protect everyone. I could not always be a hero.

But the people whom I represented could be, and usually were, heroes.

I called upon them first in 1776, rallying them and asking them to leave the known behind and stand for a new world with freedom as the final destination. When we began to fall apart over one single issue, I watched as a simple man in a tall hat pull us together again, reminding us that a house divided would never be able to stand. When our brothers needed us, we came to their aid and helped them and did the best we could to fight in a war that no one even remembered what started it. We rallied ourselves again as we heard that our beloved Harbor had been destroyed. With hatred and fierceness that made us grin coldly as we were told that we were to go to war….the people strained at an invisible leash, wanting to get back at the land that had dared to destroy one of our most important places. We did get them back. We bombed them twice and reminded the world that we were America, a nation built on grit, pride, and a quick temper whenever something happened that we didn't agree with.

In Vietnam we once again struggled, but once again, we prevailed. We prevailed in so many wars….real ones and mental ones that tested the bonds that held us together as a country. There were a few select men and women who were the examples of what we were made of. They donned uniforms, picked up guns, flew planes, guided ships, and stood at the front line to protect their fellow neighbor.

Today, I heard the all too familiar sound of Taps as a young man of only 25 was being buried. Like so many of the people he was about to join, he had died serving his country. Protecting it.

Protecting me.

It was a beautiful sound, a beautiful sight to watch, but at the same time it brought tears to my eyes. I had seen this done a million times over probably, but it still brought back memories that I would rather forget.

I had been told a many a time that I was too naïve, too foolish, to ever make it. Somehow though, I had managed to prove my worth in this world.

But even heroes have the right to bleed, don't they?

Judging by the manner of which any failure by me or my people was judged harshly….apparently not. I prayed that this young man would not be judged for trying to protect an idiot. I would never admit it to England, France, or any of the others that were like me, as admitting to them that I really could be a 'right foul git' as England would put it would be the most embarrassing thing that could happen to me.

I guess I should get back to my original train of thought though, shouldn't I? What brought me here to this place was an old Army trunk that I had found in a garage sell near my home. Inside of it, I found a small collection of medals. There were the crossed guns, the 'U.S.' pin, a pin that belonged to a reserve division in Dixie that had fought during WW2, a German Iron Cross ribbon, and a WW2 Navy pin for the Asiatic-Pacific Theatre Campaign.

It was the Navy medal that brought me here today. I had managed to find out whom it belonged to and I planned on leaving it with him.

Today, I watched him quietly as he watched his grandson get laid to rest for his own service. The old man stood with his wife and children, tear stains on his face. It was another twenty minutes before they finally started to walk away from the fresh grave. I took a deep breath and began to follow them.

"Howard 'Sonny' Gray?" In the quiet, my voice sounded even louder than usual.

Automatically, the old man turned around. His gaze was slightly confused, but he had every right to be confused by my appearance. It wasn't everyday you see a twenty something year old man running around in a national cemetery wearing a bomber's jacket that looked like it should belong to anyone _but_ the said twenty something year old man. "Can I help you?" he asked quietly, waving his family on and walking towards me.

I hesitated, for once feeling a little unsure of myself. "I think I have something that belongs to you, sir. " I murmured, taking a small, blue canvas box out of my pocket. I handed it over to the man.

Mr. Gray opened it and stared at the medal within for a few seconds. "Where did you find this?" he looked back at me.

"In an old trunk with a few other medals- I was able to trace this one back to you, so I thought I would give it back."

Mr. Gray nodded a bit as he closed the box and put it in his pocket. "What's your name, son?"

This time, I managed to smile. "It depends on who you ask. To some it's Uncle Sam, to others it's Alfred Jones. " I said. "I think it really depends on who I am with and who I've managed to tick off. I have a few other names too, but some are really hard to pronounce, so I won't mention those. "

I was fairly sure I had really confused the old man by this point. He smiled back though. "I think I want to hear the stories behind those other names of yours."

My smile spread into a grin, "If it's alright with your family, I can tell you all about them. Would you like to talk over lunch or something? Say…McDonalds? I want to hear your story more than you want to hear mine, I'm sure."

Mr. Gray chuckled, "I believe a lunch trip can be arranged." He agreed. He eyed the well worn condition of my jacket, "If one can judge by your looks…your story will be very interesting, I think."


End file.
